The Witcher: Home is Where The Heart is
by MorningOwl1
Summary: A short, three chapter story set a year after the events of 'The Battle of Kaer Morhen'. In the wake of winter, Eskel finds himself walking up the familiar path to the former home of his school. Upon his arrival, he realizes that he is not the only one who had gotten nostalgic for the old days.
1. Chapter 1

_**Disclaimer: I do not claim ownership of the official ''The Witcher'' license, including both the books and games. **_

* * *

Freshly fallen layers of snow crunched under sturdy boots. Where once the witcher would have been wary of leaving behind prints, it mattered little now, for what was there left to seize? His home had become little more than a ruinous arrangement of bleak stone; cold like the parting memories he held of it. And yet, there he stood at the edge of that creaking drawbridge he had walked down so many times before. The moat beneath it had long since been occupied by overgrown vegetation; naked branches reaching all the way past the walkway's railing and snaking up the walls of the gatehouse, which, apart from the broken gap in the portcullis, still stood strong.

Sparsely falling snowflakes danced in the brisk wind of the Blue Mountains, drifted by its current along their gentle descent. A few melted against Eskel's face as he turned to gaze upon the surrounding cliffs, where evergreen pines swayed like the bristles of a great slumbering behemoth.

The noon sun glared between jagged peaks. Its light bounced off the ancient structure of Kaer Morhen, walls glazed with frost. With its eroded battlements and the mold growing between its building blocks, the keep looked more like a historical monument than a functioning fortress; something a scholar would have had a field day exploring.

_''It's the only home we ever had. Stay.''_

The words Geralt spoke at their mentor's funeral, so finely etched against his mind that his dear friend might as well have been standing next to him, repeated in his head. At the time he had dismissed the notion and spent the following winter in a lodge down south - a nobleman's scenic retreat, which he had been permitted to use after dealing with a particularly nasty haunting. That year, however, Eskel decided that it was indeed time to return home.

He snorted, secured the bundle of firewood under his arm and walked inside. As the witcher emerged out of the gatehouse and into the inner bailey, he found it to be in no better state than the exterior. Of course, that was expected. The wooden roof of what once passed as a stable had caved under the weight of the elements. Next to the pile of debris, a straw dummy defiantly stood as they left it; the sole protector of a crumbling castle with his white cap of snow.

''At ease, guardsman.'' Eskel muttered with a low, gravely chuckle. An attempt to mask the overbearing feeling of loneliness that hung over the scene. Not that the old fort was particularly lively even with Vesemir around, but it somehow never felt empty. The silence, once serene and a welcomed escape, had turned deafening. He stepped in the shadow of the blunt donjon huddled against the mountainous precipices. They really did not make castles like they used to, the witcher thought. Very rarely did one see a tower of such scale in more modern works of masonry. Especially in the Northern Kingdoms. A true shame that nowadays it was no more than a heavily fortified perch for the occasional eagle. At least, he hoped it were only birds that dwelt up there and not a few draconids...

It was when Eskel approached the nearest set of steps that he caught the faint scent of alcohol in the air. Immediately, he dropped the stack of dry branches in favor for reaching to his swords. His gloved hand wrapped around the handle of the steel one and his stance lowered, amber eyes shifting to the most likely points of ambush. He had heard rumors of marauders prowling the trails north of former Dol Blathanna; wildmen who hunt traveling caravans. Like a pack of rabid dogs, the roadside merchant described them. If any somehow found Kaer Morhen, with its isolated site and easily defendable structure, it was more than likely that they would have found it a suitable hideout.

Akin to a mountain lion, the experienced witcher crept up the frozen stairs, half-drawn blade rested on one broad shoulder and prepared to cut down any whom dared trespass upon his alma mater. He carefully pushed open one wing of the bulky oaken door that led into the main chamber. The hinges groaned in protest. He felt as if he was disturbing some long-forgotten crypt.

Eskel noticed that none of the braziers and torches were lit. The fire pit in the middle also looked to have not been used recently- if at all, since the day he left. The still air was nearly as cold as the outside. While his enhanced sight was able to peer through the almost complete pitch blackness, it was doubtful that any normal man would have settled for such conditions, savage or otherwise.

A full exploration of the first floor further disproved his initial assumption, for he found naught but dust and wintering rodents. His relieved sigh was cut short, however, once the clacking of light steps upon stone had reached his sensitive ears. Definitely not the walk of a brutish bandit, unless he was particularly flamboyant. It came from upstairs - Geralt and Yennefer's former love nest, prompting Eskel to head up the winding staircase.

The closer he got to the presumed source, the stronger the previously fleeting smell became. He was able to identify it as a sweet mix of liquor and floral perfume. Once he reached the top and swung open the bedroom's door, he was assaulted by a gust of warmth emanating from beyond it. The familiar aroma had now seeped through his very senses.

Sitting with one smooth, feminine leg crossed atop the other in a chair closest to the tinted windows was exactly whom he expected. Fiery tresses were nonchalantly combed back by a hand delicate and measured, revealing emerald eyes, glinting like the gemstone they shared their hue with. In the other set of fingers, a chalice was held, the contents of which was already deduced. Full lips curved in a pleasantly surprised smile...


	2. Chapter 2

''Shouldn't just barge on a lady like that. What if I was stepping out of the bath? ''

Merigold motioned to the empty but recently used wooden tub with a playful flash in her eyes. Their hazy stare, combined with the rosy tint of her freckled cheeks and the way she slurred the witcher's name suggested that the one she held was not the first drink she had had thus far.

''Then I would have shielded my eyes posthaste to preserve thy virtue, my lady!'' Eskel replicated her jesting tone by imitating the appalled, theatrical speech of a nobleman. That, or how he imagined a young Vesemir would have sounded like.

Both shared laugh, with Triss's being particularly booming and expressive, nearly keeling over as if she had heard the funniest joke in her life.

Eskel paced over to the smoldering fireplace in the middle of the room. On the way, he picked a dry log from a conveniently placed stack and tossed it in. Flames crackled back to life.

''So, are you going to make me ask?'' Spoke again the gruff man. He looked over his shoulder at the sorceress while he warmed his hands. What relief it was to be able to feel his fingers again.

Triss shrugged the shoulder her wide gown failed to encompass. The dark silk clashed with her ivory complexion, light material doing little to preserve the modesty of her shapes. Eskel found it difficult to not steal the occasional glimpse. She took another sip and settled the bronze chalice in her lap. Her features retained an air of amusement, confidence undoubtedly boosted by the alcohol one could smell on her very breath.

''Yes.''

Eskel sighed, although the shrewd smirk remained. He decided to humor her for now:

''Why are you here? Last I heard, you were heading back to Kovir.''

Satisfied with getting her way, the redhead brought a single digit to her chin, pretending as if she had to consider her answer even if the question was rather straightforward. It was evident that she was just trying to test Eskel's patience, which fortunately he had a steady supply of.

''Oh, well, you know... '' She sunk further back into her chair . ''My new and very much expansive bedroom can't quite compare to a dingy tower in the middle of nowhere.''

Triss chuckled, downed what remained of the liquor and after a brief pause finally confessed:

''Same reason as you. I missed this place.''

The witcher couldn't argue with that, and produced only a grumble; one of confirmation presumably. He undid his fur mantle and allowed it to drop on the floor behind him, while he still knelt before the reignited embers. Then, came off the fingerless gloves and, finally, his heavy gambeson. He had stripped to a simple linen shirt that served more as padding to his armor. In turn, now it was she whom unapologetically indulged in tracing the outline of his broad back. It was only fair. Had he only white hair...

''Among other things.'' A low, discreet murmur, and then a groan for when she rose to her bare feet.

Triss tottered, balance wavering, but kept it long enough to stumble over to the familiar bed made of soft hides, where she collapsed face-first and rolled over. Drunken giggles filled the narrow chamber.

''Came alone?'' Inquired the witcher whilst standing up himself. The yellow glow of the fire reflected off his scarred features, stocked blazes licking the stone columns that surrounded the hearth.

''Teleported.'' Triss corrected. She even made vague swirling motions with her hand to illustrate as if the man were dense. ''...and yes. I wasn't expecting anyone either, but, here you are. Here _we_ are.''

''You sound disappointed.''

''Not at all!'' The more than tipsy sorceress exclaimed. Girlish giggles erupted following her objection, and she rolled back onto her stomach. Her legs waved behind her.

''It is fitting, actually - that we both end up back here. This place feels like it is stuck in time, while the world outside keeps going on... and on... and on...''

With Merigold's voice trailing off in the background, Eskel noticed something glinting on the floor close to where she had been sitting; a silver ring with a ruby embedded in it. It was one Geralt had given her long ago.

''Triss, isn't th-...''

''And on, and on! Ugh! I wish it'd slow down from time to time. So we can enjoy the good moments while they last.''

It was then that she began to push herself up to her knees, hands engulfed by the thick furs she laid upon. The flimsy garments she donned hung dangerously low; it would have taken but a tug to expose her, yet Triss seemed unaware or uncaring. Or perhaps, her inattentiveness was not without purpose.

Eskel could not help but be tempted by the alluring visage staring back at him from that bed. Like a siren, she drew his imagination to murkier depths, and It was surely a matter of time before the rest of him followed. He suddenly felt constricted in his own clothes, suffocated even.

All doubts of her real intentions were dashed in an instant, as she bit her lower lip and ushered him to come closer; to join her. Her presence was intoxicating, demanding the full attention of those graced by it.

Had she been any other woman, the experienced witcher would not have thought twice about giving her what she craved, and then some. Yet, his conscience chimed in. A nag in the back of his head forced him to halt any bold advance.

''Why are you doing this?'' Eskel bluntly asked, stoic in body if not in spirit. Triss was a friend - a dear friend. Barring the occasional flirty remark said in jest, feelings of true passion had never been cultivated between them. As far as he was aware.

''Oh, you know. Just trying to enjoy the moment.''

Each word rolled off her tongue like the purr of a content cat, lounging for she knew her prey could not evade her for long. In fact, she expected it to scurry right into her grasp.

''We ca-...''

''Come on, Eskel.'' Triss interrupted again, thwarting his attempts at abstinence. She clearly needed this, and was not above persuading him if she had to to get it.

''Everyone else gets to run off and be happy, why should we have to hold back? For who? Me, you - do we not deserve to feel wanted for at least a night?

For a painful moment, silence reigned supreme, usurped only by the rattling of the windows as mountainous winds beat against them. The frustration was palpable. Bottled feelings lingered in the air they both shared. So much want and passion left unexpressed, or perhaps not reciprocated? Left to boil, and boil until one could contain it no longer. Not towards each other, no, yet with the object of their desires unattainable what choice did they have? It was a bond born of neglect.

Finally, much to the sorceress's delight, Eskel stepped towards her...


	3. Chapter 3

Eyes narrowed in sweet seduction had turned wide in an instant. The hand she had reached out to the man was left to hang and then slowly, weakly dropped onto the bed. Her chest flattened against his own as she was pulled close, delicate frame wrapped by strong arms. Her chin met his shoulder, but had it not her jaw would have surely dropped.

Eskel had embraced her.

''Wh-what? What are you doing?'' She managed to meekly stammer out. Her features were scrunched in confusion. Was she meant to reciprocate? it was quite the unconventional way of initiating what she had hoped was to be an evening of lust, especially since the witcher just... held her, and made no further attempt to steer into anything beyond that. For a moment she could not help but feel self-conscious. Vulnerable:

''If you really don't want me, at least don't pity me.''

Although not much remained of her dignity at that point, the sorceress did not want it further trampled upon. She was no fragile maiden; she could handle rejection.

''I do. But I'm not the one you want.''

The statement caused her greens to avert in what looked to be guilt, head tilting away from the scratch of his stubble. As he pulled away, his breath tickled her earlobe - a bitter sigh upon having his suspicions confirmed. The woman was left to flop onto the furs without his support. She dared not look at him still. For all the shame she felt, there was no reason to coax him further.

''I don't think I can help with the hole you are really trying to fill.'' Eskel said with a resigned smile, coarse palm stroking the woman's exposed shoulder while the other propped him as he sat by her side. The comfort was appreciated, yet Triss still kept her stare fixed on the nearest wall. Tears bubbled to the surface. Streams of liquid crystal flowed from the corners of clouded eyes.

''Just... why her? After everything we've been through, why did he choose her?''

''You know why, Triss.''

Indeed she did; she had always known. Even at the peak of their love, back when they could not stand to be apart for even a moment, in her heart she knew that The White Wolf was not hers to tame. She had merely borrowed what belonged to another. A man's true family was near impossible to replace and, perhaps, the emptiness she felt was her just punishment for even trying it.

''Did you hear they settled in Toussaint?. '' She added in-between sniffles. ''They invited me to visit a few times - sent me letters, written by Yen no doubt, but I just... can't. Its selfish. If I see Geralt living the life I've always wanted for us with someone else...''

''It'll hurt too much. Yeah, I get it.'' The scar-faced witcher finished the sentence for her.

A nod was all she could offer in return. Bitter-sweet memories played out behind her blank visage. Still lips neither scrunched nor quivered; her tears the sole expression of the dull ache in her chest. Soon, they too began to dry out, leaving only damp, glistening streaks. All the while, the soothing hand on her shoulder never lifted.

''It's funny.'' Eskel's joyless smile was replicated upon the enchantress's pursed lips. She shook her head, shifting the hides she laid upon. ''I've always wanted Geralt to myself. I even blamed him for not staying with me. Though, in his place, I'd have chosen her too. It makes more sense, doesn't it? They are like an old, married couple, while we dance about our words and feelings and... ''

''Ugh.'' She grunted in frustration and buried her head further against the folds.

They just stood as they were for a few minutes, surrounded by silence and dust-coated mementos. Neither Eskel nor Triss made any sound for the longest of time. The muffled howling of the northern gales contrasted the cozy crackling of the fire. It made the bedroom feel even more like a retreat; a warm sanctuary from the cold, uncaring and fickle nature of the world beyond those ancient walls. It awaited them, beckoned them to dive right back into the center of the storm, but was it so wrong to postpone the inevitable for a moment of respite?

Instead of disturbing it, Eskel's gritty but steady voice somehow seamlessly blended with the stillness. As if it were the natural continuation of it.

''Well, that's the difference between romance and love for you - with love, you just know its there. It's a given. You don't need to prove it with flowers or long walks on the beach or whatever other shite you read about in novels. That's what I think, anyway.''

A gentle touch was felt upon the witcher's wrist. Triss's slender digits wrapped around it. Her thumb drew little patterns over his skin. Finally, she had looked up at the man looming over her. Her eyes were clearer, sober even:

''I'm really sorry. You're a good friend, Eskel, and a good man.''

''I wouldn't go that far.'' Said the witcher with a quirk to his brow and a wink.

As he retracted the hand she held onto, he simultaneously pulled her up to a sitting position. They did not remain on the same eye level for long. The sorceress yawned and pressed her freckle-spotted cheek against his shoulder. Loose hair spilled down his back and front like a ginger scarf.

''You know.'' Eskel started, his tone immediately betraying him.'' Now that we have put all our cards on the table, if you do want to continue what you started...''

''Lost your chance, buddy.'' Giggled Triss and gave him a light jab, only to then snuggle even closer. This, this is what she really needed all along.

Drowsiness soon overcame the emotionally exhausted woman. Before allowing her lids to drop and consciousness to be whisked away into slumber, two words escaped her lips, quietly whispered against the man she leaned over in a single, relieved breath.

''Thank you.''

...

''So, he's still at it?''

''Oh yes.'' Yennefer clicked her tongue against her teeth. '' But I have given up on trying to civilize him long ago. You should know better than most - take a witcher's swords and he will just find a pointy enough stick to go poke ogres with instead.''

''I'll drink to that.''

Two wine chalices met in the middle with a clang. Merigold took only a meager sip, while her hostess downed a hefty portion of her own drink. As if to retain some semblance of classy conduct, the raven-haired sorceress cleared her palate and threw one leg over the other upon placing her cup over the table separating them.

The smell of bloom was in the air. Melodic birds chirped above their heads, perched onto the cherry tree in which shade they sat. A bee buzzed pass Triss's ear and landed on one of the fruits, aesthetically arranged in a ceramic bowl close to the bottle they drew from. She looked to the fields of green that stretched out from the vineyard. The home was just far enough from the nearest village to not feel completely isolated. One could even hear the local bustle if they strained their hearing far enough.

''With Eskel around to encourage him, I doubt we will see either oaf for a few days. More time to catch up, I suppose. Ciri should be paying us a visit soon. She'll be delighted to see you. I'm sure.''

''Yeah.'' Triss aloofly replied, but then immediately followed-up in fear of appearing disinterested. ''Yes, I've missed her too.''

Of course, nothing eluded those violet eyes looking back at her. Every awkward gesture, every tense twitch - Yennefer read the younger woman like one of her books.

''So what compelled you to accept our invitation, finally?''

Merigold dipped her head down, observing the maroon liquid that swirled in her cup. She hummed, tapped the gilded rim a few times with her index, and turned back to the idyllic view. Somewhere beyond that horizon, away from his scenic home and quiet life, the man she could not stop loving was doing what he had always done ever since she first met him. He had been given everything he could ever want, and yet he was out there, slaying monsters for crowns he no longer needed. Rummaging through forgotten crypts and tracking murderous beasts. Perhaps landing smack dab in some political feud that didn't concern him? A relic of the past; a constant, an old wolf foremost loyal to his first and dearest mistress. The hunt.

And in hindsight, she wouldn't have had it any other way.

Soft lips formed a calm smile once more.

''I suppose, I needed to confirm something for myself…''


End file.
